


this needed gift

by oh_simone



Series: Songs About Jack [1]
Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: F/M, Flashbacks, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Pre-OT3, Sleep Deprivation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:09:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27145709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oh_simone/pseuds/oh_simone
Summary: “Darling,” Peggy said quietly in that tight, calm tone she adopted in times of great tension, “I need your help with Jack.”
Relationships: Peggy Carter & Daniel Sousa & Jack Thompson, Peggy Carter/Daniel Sousa, Peggy Carter/Daniel Sousa/Jack Thompson
Series: Songs About Jack [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1981484
Comments: 4
Kudos: 53
Collections: Hold Me: A Comfort Prompfest





	this needed gift

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt "Peggy/Jack/Daniel, bed-sharing after at least one of them has been tortured via sleep deprivation."

Daniel stirred at Peggy’s soft touch. It was still pitch dark outside, and he felt as exhausted as he’d started when they first collapsed into bed. It had been a very, very long week.  
  
“Darling,” Peggy said quietly in that tight, calm tone she adopted in times of great tension, “I need your help with Jack.”  
  
“Jack? What’s wrong?” Despite the grittiness rasping his eyes, Daniel pushed upright from the bed, wide awake and heart pounding.  
  
Peggy’s lips pressed into a thin line. “He’s not all here, and he won’t let me get close.”  
  
“How is he still awake,” Daniel marveled, even as he shrugged on the robe she handed him and took up his crutch. “I don’t think he’s gotten more than a couple hours in the last three days.”  
  
“He shouldn’t be,” Peggy said darkly. “I think he may have some trace chemicals in him, but Doobin said the blood tests were inconclusive. Of course, he’s also been awake for the last three days,” she echoed dryly.  
  
“Surprised you didn’t just knock his lights out. That usually works for you,” Daniel quipped, but Peggy didn’t respond, except to look grim. That wasn't a good sign. They came to the guest room, the door already ajar. Daniel went to push inside, but Peggy stopped him.  
  
“Jack,” she called, and carefully staying to the side of the doorway, pushed the door open wider. “It’s just us. Are you still awake?”  
  
A book hurtled through the doorway, smacked into the corridor wall.  
  
“Stay back,” Jack said, voice thready with tension.  
  
Peggy and Daniel exchanged looks before she cautiously peered inside. The bed was unmade, sheets twisted and empty. Jack was wedged tight in the corner between the nightstand and wardrobe; he clutched a roll of giftwrap paper as though he were holding his service rifle. Sweat soaked the front of his undershirt.  
  
“He won’t listen to me,” Peggy said.  
  
Jack flinched. “ _Ugokuna_!”  
  
Daniel pulled Peggy back a little. “Let me try,” he told her.  
  
Inside the room, Jack hadn’t stop flicking glances around the room, his eyes exhausted and glazed, but his breath shallow. Daniel stumped into the room, not bothering to hide his footsteps.  
  
Before Jack could do more than inhale, Daniel barked, “On your feet, Lieutenant!”  
  
Jack scrambled upright on pure reflex. On any other day, he wouldn’t have had any trouble standing at attention, Marine training as ingrained as it was. But this was after four days of being held captive in the underground bunker of some terrorist cell in East Berlin, denied food and sleep, subject to strobing lights and raucous music, interrogated over and over again with the aid of some unholy alternating mix of barbiturates and eugeroics. When Jack snapped to his feet, he reeled off balance, stumbled over his feet and toppled over the nightstand, sending the lamp atop it sliding and crashing to the floor.  
  
The lights flicked on as Peggy joined them in the room.  
  
“Oh, Jack,” she said as he tried to climb to his feet, blinking muzzily at the destruction around him. “No, don’t move, you’ll cut your feet.”  
  
“Marge?” Jack mumbled, dazed. “I—sorry, didn’t mean to…” he searched for the word, couldn’t find it, and sighed, shoulders slumping.  
  
“You with us, Jack?” Daniel asked, just to be certain.  
  
Jack stared at him silently for a few beats, and nodded.  
  
“Okay, good. Peggy’s got your shoes here, put those on, and come out of the room,” Daniel coaxed.  
  
“Did I wake you?” Jack asked as he shoved his feet into his boots. Besides him, Peggy slipped an arm under his shoulders and steered him out into the hall, where Daniel took over.  
  
“Nah, we were playing Parcheesi. C’mon, join us for a round,” Daniel said lightly. He caught Peggy’s eye over his shoulder, and mouthed, “I got him.”  
  
She nodded. “I’ll bring up some tea,” she whispered, and went to fetch the broom.  
  
“I can take the couch,” Jack offered, a beat later.  
  
“In a bit,” Daniel soothed, and ushered him into the master bedroom. “Take a seat, Jack.”  
  
Jack looked at him sardonically. “Where?”  
  
Daniel made a show of glancing around before gesturing. “Just on the bed, for now.”  
  
“I know what you’re doing. You’re manipulating me,” Jack told him, and sat gingerly on the edge of the mattress.  
  
“Am I?” Daniel turned to his drawers and rifled through the middle one. He extracted a clean old shirt and tossed it at Jack. It hit him in the face. The resulting look of offended dignity was almost funny, had Jack not otherwise been about two seconds away from collapse. “You stink, pal,” he said sympathetically.  
  
“Sorry,” Jack muttered, and slowly, painstakingly changed his shirt. There some lingering bruises on his shoulder and along his ribs, but nothing more serious—his captors had seen no need for physical coercion it seemed, when they could break him another way. Daniel had to help him get the fresh shirt over his head when his bruised ribs protested. Jack laughed shortly as Daniel tugged the shirt in place. “Shoulda known it wasn’t real. S’cold here.”  
  
“Jungles don’t get much snow, huh?”  
  
“Sometimes, the sun bleaches the sand so white, you could trick yourself into thinking it. But then there’s the, y’know, muck. Mosquitoes. Dysentery.” His voice gone soft, Jack trailed off, lost in contemplation of the wall. He blinked, and scrubbed a hand over his face. “God, I’m tired.”  
  
Daniel hummed in acknowledgment as he tossed Jack’s shirt in the hamper and shrugged out of his own robe. “So tired you can’t sleep, huh?”  
  
“I want to, but I keep seeing—and it’s… my head,” Jack said, a little brokenly. “They’re crawling around in the- the shadows. They _talk_.”  
  
“It’s probably because of the wallpaper in the guest room,” Daniel commiserated, guiding Jack higher up the bed. “I told Peggy we should’ve just painted it white instead of putting in that weird leafy pattern.”  
  
“Daniel we've talked about this, the wallpaper’s a wedding gift from my mother, and a genuine B.J. Talbert design,” Peggy said as she came into the room, bearing a gently steaming mug. “We decided to use it up in the guest room _precisely_ so we wouldn’t have to stare at it in ours, while _she_ can congratulate herself on her good taste when she comes to visit. Budge up, Jack. Here you go.”  
  
“What’s this?” Jack said, holding the cup with both hands and staring into its depths.  
  
“Chamomile with a spot of honey. It always helps me sleep.”  
  
“Think I’m past it, Marge,” Jack sighed, but sipped some anyways. “Haven’t slept in days. I think I’ve forgotten how.”  
  
“Perfect, then we can use this time to go over some of the quarterly reports that came in while you were out,” Peggy said smoothly. “Daniel?”  
  
“Got ‘em,” he said, handing over a stack of completed paperwork, and plucked the mug from Jack’s listless fingers.  
  
“Can’t read,” Jack mumbled, peering over her shoulder. “The letters’re running around.”  
  
“I’ll read to you, but don’t you dare fall asleep on me,” Peggy said sternly. She settled in, while Daniel tugged the comforter up over their laps. Between them, Jack drooped, blinking heavily.  
  
“Won’t,” Jack protested. “Can’t sleep here 'nyways. Couch.”  
  
“I wish you luck. That thing’ll break your back. Hey, pay attention,” Daniel said, and eased a pillow behind him.  
  
“This is the important part, Jack,” Peggy said. “The financial statement for last quarter is a bit of a mess. We stayed within fifty-two percent of our overall budget, which isn’t too terrible. The bulk of it went into operations and the renovations for the main building, and in particular security upgrades and added features. In accordance with the charter rules and regulations, PL-88…” Her voice droned on gently, a steady patter of deathly dull information that would have challenged even the most alert and attentive of accountants.  
  
Rather than listen in, Daniel watched Jack as his blinks grew longer and longer, his head dipping lower and lower. His breathing finally evened out and carefully, oh-so-gently, Daniel tipped Jack back onto the pillow, and watched as he sank into the softness with a soundless sigh.  
  
“…hopefully that’ll stick for the next few hours at least,” Peggy said, continuing in the same voice and rhythm. “If that doesn’t put him to sleep and keep him there then I shall have to admit his superiority in this respect because I can never get through two paragraphs of that without a little nap at my desk. Do you think the hallucinations will remain a problem?”  
  
“Sleep should do the trick,” Daniel assured her. “Just have to keep him here long enough for his brain to reset.”  
  
Peggy hummed and set the papers down with a sigh. Carefully, she slid down on her side, propped up on her elbow as she looked down at their slumbering companion. “We should have found him sooner,” she said quietly, not quite daring to touch him for fear of waking him.  
  
“I know,” Daniel agreed. There was no point in pointing out they’d done their best, redirected all SHIELD resources towards the goal of retrieval, beyond what had been wise. “We’re here now, though.”  
  
Peggy sighed, and gave into temptation to brush some blond hair from Jack’s eyes. “No more nightmares, my little pain-in-the-neck,” she murmured to him.  
  
Daniel reached over, caught her hand in his and pressed a quick kiss to her knuckles. “He’ll be alright tonight. We’ve got him,” he smiled.  
  
Unclasping his hand, she touched his cheek fondly. "Goodnight, my love.” She twisted away to turn off the bedside lamp; the darkness that swallowed them felt cozy and safe.  
  
“Goodnight, sweetheart,” Daniel replied, settling in alongside Jack’s warm bulk. “…You think he snores?”  
  
“Don’t you dare wake him if he does.”  
  
“Just this once,” he conceded, and allowed sleep to overtake his senses.

**Author's Note:**

> Some additional thoughts [here](https://chouette.dreamwidth.org/151822.html#cutid1)


End file.
